Not A Care In The World
by RaccoonGoon
Summary: You kind of always figured indifference was your biggest problem in life.


You never wanted to be a trainer, not really.

It was all just a lot of hot air and hype, in your opinion. Training pokemon to fight against other pokemon? Seemed pretty ridiculous to you. Tedious, too. But you did it anyway.

It wasn't really because you wanted to try it out. Again, you never really had the urge to be a trainer. But your dear old mum and all of those obnoxious "friends" of yours were so intent on you starting on your own journey. Yeah, like you could ever accomplish something like being a notable trainer.

You guess you had a favorite type. Grass. It was something easy enough for you to get used to, as opposed to a walking fire hazard and mobile water hose. Ok, yeah, you admit, a living plant is pretty weird too. But at least it won't get you wet or accidentally set you or anything around you on fire.

So you chose bulbasaur. Easy enough choice. Apparently easy to train, too, which sat just fine with you. Well, at this point you really didn't care if you did well as a trainer or not. But you might as well make it as easy as you can, right?

You named the little guy Green. No one said you were creative. Besides, it's not like you're trying to be a trainer, anyway. You never planned to bond with walking plants, at the very least. So whatever, you had said.

You won some and lost some. You didn't really care either way, though when a particular harsh losing streak reared its ugly head, living became rather harsh. You had to go some days without eating, sometimes. Usually you would just sleep the day away. Green was all good, he was a plant. So you could go without eating, or supplies, or whatever…who cares.

You caught a rattata at one point. Named it Rascal. You could never really tell what the gender of these things were.

Rascal was just about the only thing you managed to catch. You weren't really motivated to go out of your way to waste pokeballs or be precise enough to weaken a wild pokemon just enough. Besides, you figured, you aren't really going anywhere with this whole trainer thing. Probably not. So what's the point?

You still trained them. You conclude it was probably inevitable. All these trainers out and about, itching to show off how good their teams were. You found it all rather dumb and egotistical. Either way, you managed to train them well enough. Green and Rascal even ended up evolving, at one point. You even managed to beat a gym. You guess that was cool.

You always guessed indifference was your big, never ending problem in life. You never really cared for anything. Didn't ever feel like doing anything. No motivation. Just locked yourself up in your room, maybe reading a book if you felt like it, mostly just staring up at the ceiling, though. If you felt particularly upbeat you would maybe watch some TV.

It's only now you ever really realized the big deal with being so indifferent. Even now, though, with a the tip of a toxic spike protruding from your abdomen, you're not sure if you can actually bring yourself to really care. You can feel blood bubbling up in your throat, but it doesn't bother you much. Not like you have any heartfelt last words to say to anyone.

What you suspect to be the toxins from the spike splash against the fleshy walls of your esophagus like acid.

You vacantly stare at the receding figures before you with purple tinted vision. Another side effect of the toxins, you guess.

Some thugs in black had approached you on a rather empty route. You weren't really sure which one. You never really did pay attention to where you were going, just wandered wherever. They had goofy red R's on their shirts, which you found rather stupid. You told them as much when they began threatening you, demanding you hand over your pokemon or some stupid order like that. You just rolled your eyes and kept moving past them. You didn't think they were actually serious, you mean, who even has time for that? If they were like you and lacked the motivation to actually catch a team, why would they go out of their way to take someone else's? Seemed like even more work to you.

You soon figured out they weren't really kidding, though. But you didn't really want to fight. So what if they take your pokemon? It's not like you were planning on making something of yourself this way. Yeah, you might be a little disappointed to see the little guys go…but if it were up to you, you wouldn't have even taken up this stupid travel in the first place.

So you kind of just took it when they started to beat the shit out of you. It's not like you haven't dealt with this before, back at home. It was whatever. But one of them reached for you belt, hand nearly upon Green's pokeball. As you said before, you didn't really care if they took them, not really. But you smacked his hand away anyway, following up with a kick in his stupid red R embroidered chest.

They took out their own pokemon after that, one a growlithe and the other a beedrill. You still hesitated to battle, though. But you actually felt kind of reluctant to just let them take your pokemon from you.

But at that point you figured it was a little late to come to such a realization.

The beedrill released some toxic spikes. They were bigger than you would have imagined them to be. The growlithe tackled you, and you stumbled. Fell back. Before you knew it, there was a purple barb sticking through your torso. Maybe if you weren't so damn skinny and actually ate more it wouldn't have gone all the way through. Like that would have saved you.

Not that you care. You never really had the urge to kill yourself, but you never really cared if you died either. It was just one more thing you were indifferent to.

You think you hear one of them say "Shit!" Blood is trickling from the corners of your lips at this point, seeping from your nose, pooling beneath you. Red is an ok color, you think.

You can only find yourself regretting this whole thing when they actually have the gall to come up to you, stripping you of your pokeball belt. You actually sputter some, even attempt to raise a hand from the spreading pool of crimson.

You don't care. You never did care. Sometimes you wished you cared, but not really. So now you can die with no real heavy thoughts on you.

You never really cared to be a trainer, not really.

You really wish you didn't care.


End file.
